Four and Five
by pointlesspostits
Summary: "I look around at the crowds of teenagers. At least one of these will be dead within the month. Possibly even two. It could be any of us. It could be me. I hope it is." - 65th HG - Slight Finnick/OC - Alternate POV
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - So yeah. It's been a while since I've uploaded anything. I like where this fic is going so... enjoy and leave a review if you want :)**

**Kindly Beta'd by the lovely Chadders. Cheers, love :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Grace<strong>

The Reaping.

Today is the day where I know if I am to live, or die.

To be honest, I'm hoping for the second.

My name is Grace Hartnell. District 5. I am unremarkable. There is nothing about me that anybody else doesn't have. I keep out of the way, the limelight isn't for me – neither are people – but sometimes I just wish I'd get picked for these damned Games, just to show the Capitol that we don't all belong to them.

One thing's for sure: if I get chosen, the odds will definitely not be in my favour.

I wake early, before the sun rises, and swing my legs down off of my bed. My bare feet curl up as they touch the frozen floor, making it difficult to walk without wincing. My mother won't rise until as late as possible – she can't bear to watch the Reaping and I can understand why. It's not exactly fun, seeing two children picked to be shoved into an arena and kill each other. But we have to. Everyone has to.

I fix breakfast for myself, a slice of bread with a little cheese. I could eat more; my family isn't exactly poor, but I don't feel like it. I feel sick. Like everyone does, I suppose, on the morning of the Reaping.

Mother rises half an hour later, her sock-clad feet dragging over the stone floor. She has coffee and sips at it without looking at me. I do not drink it, it's too expensive for even us to drink it nonstop, and our family is one of the wealthiest in the region. I don't speak to her; I just continue getting ready for the rest of the day.

My father gets up even later, only a half hour before the Reaping starts. Tells me that he laid out a dress for me to wear when he got home from work last night. He fails to realise that I am already wearing it.

He ruffles my hair, "You don't worry now, kiddo, your name's only in there four times. There are kids out there with forty or more."

This doesn't comfort me. I put on my shoes and leave the house without them, joining the crowds down at the District square. I sign in and join my friends in the section roped off for fifteen year old girls. We do not speak to each other. Not many people have anything to say on the morning of the Reaping. I look around at the crowds of teenagers. At least one of these will be dead within the month. Possibly even two.

It could be any of us.

It could be me.

I hope it is.

"You scared?" I jump at the words. I turn back to my friend, Donette, who spoke.

"Uh, I guess everyone is." She nods and resumes staring blankly at the stage set up at the front of the square. Her eyes never flicker. Glazed over.

She's preparing herself for the worst.

I gulp, suddenly realizing that, yes, I am scared. But I'd rather die a noble death in the Arena than a faceless death at home, in District 5, so I tell myself to be calm.

The District 5 escort, Felicia Malone, steps up to the microphone. She looks ridiculous, to put it politely. Her skin is dyed a silvery grey, and her hair is bright blue and styled in a stupidly frizzy bun on top of her head. She wears a blue dress with a lightning shaped slash down the side.

I see what you did there, Felicia. Electricity.

She starts to speak of Panem's proud history. How we rose out of the ashes of a place they used to call North America. She goes on to talk about the Districts' revolt. How the Capitol crushed the rebels to dust. Destroyed the thirteenth District. Forced us to offer up the children of the Districts to kill each other. To watch our family, our friends, die on the screens.

Once she has finished, she goes on to the Reaping itself, announcing that the ceremony will start with the "Ladies first!"

She swirls her hand around in the first of the glass balls that hold the names of each child for far longer than is necessary, pulling a face that makes her look like a fish. She plucks out one of the slips of paper and waddles back over to the microphone.

_Please pick me_.

"Grace Hartnell!" She sounds gleeful. Donette spins around to stare at me, her mouth hanging open. She gulps a goodbye. I smile at her.

Then I practically run up to the stage.

There is silence when Felicia asks for volunteers.

Good.

"And now for the boys," Felicia states, speaking in her hideously exaggerated Capitol accent, "Magnus Golloway!" She holds the slip of paper above her head as she shouts the boy's name. He's the same age as me, but from the other side of the District.

He's scrawny. Starved.

Well, not everyone's father is in charge of a power plant.

We are made to shake hands, but he looks as if he will snap if I grip his hand too tightly. I make the effort to smile at him, to let him know that we could be allies, if he wanted. He just looks like he's going to be sick.

We are then led backwards into the Justice Building, leaving only cheering crowds and Donette's tear stained face behind us.

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><p><strong>AN - Short, I know. Thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thanks to everyone who's followed this fic and stuff, I'm glad you like it. This chapter's from Finnick's POV**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Finnick<strong>

I can't have heard it right. It can't be me. It just - it just can't be. But they're pushing me forward, the boys who were previously my friends, pushing me toward my death.

Of course, I'd been scared, my stomach twisting with fear, but I never thought it'd be me. It never would be. My name's only in there six times. Six in thousands. Yet still I'm being pushed to the stage, the District 4 Escort holding out her elegant hand to me, pulling me toward the microphone. I'm in a daze. I don't hear what she is saying, but then I'm facing a seventeen year old. She takes my hand without me offering it to her. Shakes it. Drops it abruptly.

We enter the Justice Building. We're led into separate rooms. I'm suddenly aware that my family are there. My mother is crying. My father tells me to win. My younger brother clutches at my arms, hugging me tightly. I barely have the strength to put my arms around him. My older brothers do not say anything. I know I should say something to them, but I don't know how to at the moment. My vocal chords don't seem to work. I'm not entirely sure if they exist anymore. Then their time is up and they're gone. I collapse into a chair, the plush velvet soft and foreign against my skin. The reality of my situation crashes down on my shoulders.

I'm pulled back into my own mind by this, the fog that had clouded it dissipating. I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I will myself not to cry, but I am very close to. If they see me cry then they'll know that I'm weaker than them. I can't have them know that I'm weak. They'll know that I'm an easy target.

They'll know that the odds aren't in my favour.

They aren't. They really aren't. I'm going to die in these Godforsaken Games and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not as strong as the Careers. Fourteen isn't an age to die. But, I suppose it is if you're a Tribute. I could have done so much with the rest of my life. I could have met someone, fallen in love, married. But I guess if I die at fourteen there's a lot more than that I'll miss out on.

There's a knock at the door, and Annie Cresta enters. At least, I think that's her name. I've seen her passing by, but never taken notice before. She approaches me slowly, gingerly. As if she's scared that I'll tell her to leave. I wouldn't. I don't even know her.

"Finnick?" Her voice is shaky and quiet. I've never heard it before. She attempts a smile but all I do is stare blankly at her. "Finnick. I - Um..." She breaks off her sentence. She looks as if she's trying to work out what to say. She clears her throat and continues, "Finnick, you're allowed to wear a token from the District... If your parents haven't given you anything, would you wear this?" I'm taken aback by her kindness. This girl, whose name I'm not even sure of, is holding out a ring to me. A ring no family in our part of the District could afford. It hangs from a long, silver chain. "It was my mother's." She explains, "I used to wear it, but I thought... I thought you'd like it in there, you know, to remind you that some of us have faith in you."

I don't know what to say to her.

"Annie, isn't it?"

"Yes. Annie Cresta."

"Thank you, Annie Cresta."

She smiles weakly and drops the ring into my hand. Then the Peacekeepers are telling her to leave. She goes back toward the door, not looking back.

"I'll try to win." _Will I?_ I think. I don't know why I am telling this girl this, but I want to. I want to win the Games for her. Annie Cresta. A girl I have never spoken to. Hell, I didn't even know her name until a minute ago. Yet, I want to win this for her. She's given me an inner strength, the strength I need to try.

Thank you, Annie Cresta.

I'm escorted to a train more luxurious than anything I've ever seen. The female Tribute is already there, her face blank but tear stained. I wonder whether anyone gave her a token to wear in the arena.

I suddenly remember the ring that Annie gave me and reach into my pocket to retrieve it. It glitters almost as brightly as the train's interior. Anything as beautiful as this _must _be from the Capitol. The chain is cold on the skin of my chest, but I soon get used to it. The ring rests softly over my heart, always there. Though I can't see it, I feel it's presence under my button-down shirt, just like I feel the presence of little twelve-year-old Annie Cresta as she watches over me.

And, even though I know that I'm not, I feel safe.

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><p><strong>AN - Reviews are love :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N -** So yeah, sorry about the wait, and this chapter's the shortest so far so I'll understand if you don't forgive me. I was just lacking inspiration for this chapter. I've almost finished the next one though so you should get it soon :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Grace<strong>

The Capitol is enormous. Not as big in area as District 5, but far larger in terms of technological advances and development. I have to mentally shake myself to stop myself from squealing like a little girl. Magnus grins and starts waving to the crowds that watch us.

_Smug get_, I think.

We are taken to a large building, where we will be trained and prepped for the games ahead. I take the time to remind myself that most of the people who have seen this building are dead. Brutally murdered of live television for the entertainment of the citizens of the Capitol. To remind us that they own us and there is nothing we can do to change that.

We take a lift up to floor five. The metal shines in the bright lights, not unlike the cold metal that covers most surfaces in Five. It reminds me of home. A place I will never return to.

I had thought that the train was luxurious, but it was nothing compared to our quarters. Everything is clean, elegant, tasteful, if a bit bright. A long, green table is surrounded with chairs for the Tributes and our Mentors, and is covered with mounds of food. More than enough food for a whole week back home. I wonder what Magnus must think, being from the poor side of Five, and glance at him. His mouth hangs open in delight. I almost laugh at him. Then I realise he will be in the Arena, dying by my side, and stop myself.

Felicia, however, squeals and moves toward the table, her ridiculous blue hair today bouncing around her shoulders. She pulls out one of the seats and gestures for me to sit down, "Come, Grace, you must be famished, you ate nothing on the train!"

I am not hungry, but do as she tells me to anyway. The food is rich and heavy, and sticks in my mouth, making me want to vomit. Magnus seems to be trying to stuff everything in his mouth at once, enjoying being pampered while it lasts.

Enjoying his life while it lasts.

After dinner, we are made to watch the replay of the Reapings. No one catches my eye, particularly. A strong looking girl from 4, but no one else. They're all as good as Careers compared to me anyway.

"Training doesn't start for two days, as the outer Districts won't arrive until tomorrow." Felicia explains, smiling at us like we should be having the time of our lives. I do not say anything to her. I nod and excuse myself.

Two days. Two whole days left to ponder on how pitifully short my life has been cut. And then two weeks of training – humiliation. I am, in no way, a fighter. I am not strong or nimble or good with a bow and arrow. My best bet in the arena would be to hide and wait it out until the end. But they'd drive me out into the open; either with fire or water or lack of access to both.

There is no way in which I will get through this. Why am I trying at all?

The bedroom they have provided me with is vast and warm. I collapse into bed. I am not tired, and cannot sleep, but find some feeble feeling of safety in wrapping myself in the blankets. I doubt I will ever sleep again. At least, I will surely never sleep soundly again. Nightmares will plague me if I manage to drift off. I hear the rest of the District Five team leave to their own rooms, and the light in the hallway is turned off.

As I am plunged into complete and utter darkness, my mind clouds over and the nightmares drag me into their grasp.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - I know, I know. I said it wouldn't be long... Technically I had this written ages ago, I just forgot to upload it. The next chapter should be a bit longer, as training starts then and that's the bit I'm looking forward to most (apart from the ACTUAL GAMES anyway). Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Finnick<strong>

A fish. I'm dressed as a flipping fish. And worst of all, I have to go on _live television_ dressed in this ridiculous costume.

This is the main reason that I think my stylist is an idiot.

The other, minor reason is that they seem to think my name is Finrick, despite my constant protesting. It's infuriating.

They have all of the Tributes in some kind of holding bay, each District team next to their chariot that will take them out for the Tribute Parade. The District Four team are looking extremely pleased with themselves, all except me and Hannah, who joins me with a look of disgust on her face.

"I can't believe they've dressed us as fish." She says, gesturing to her outfit.

"I know, I feel like an idiot. I can't believe they're going to make fools of us like this."

Hannah grunts distractedly, then points over to another District team,

"It could be worse, we could be them."

I look where she's been pointing. The District Five Tributes stand awkwardly in matching bright pink costumes, each shaped like a bolt of lightning and covered in sequins that catch the light. Their outfits are too tight and made the boy's ribs stick out on his stomach. I venture a guess that he's never eaten a full meal before he entered the Capitol. The girl's costume doesn't look as bad on her – though she looks as if she was fairly rich before she came here, so she had some sort of figure for it to hug, albeit a little too snugly.

She glances over at me and our eyes meet for a moment. She nods once, her arms crossed across her chest as if she was really not impressed by anything that she was seeing, then turns back to her team.

"Looking for allies?"

I turn back to Hannah, muttering a startled "What" in response.

"You and that girl – you reckon you'll team up in the arena? I wouldn't if I were you, she doesn't look too strong and you'd be better off with someone from Two." She nods toward the District Two team, the Tributes from which were dressed up as warriors. Somebody's stylists were doing their jobs right, it seemed, "I've already got my eye on him." She points to the boy, who has strong, muscled arms and looks as if he could crush someone's head like a grape.

"You're going to team up with the careers?"

"Finnick, I've been training all my life for these Games, if you'll remember _I volunteered._" She shrugs, "I guess I _am _a career."

I just stare at her for a moment, then mutter, "Well, alright then."

Music blares. We're instructed to get into the chariot.

The first 3 Districts are gone within the next quarter of an hour, and then it's our turn.

"Try to make an impression." Hannah says to me, her voice rather flat and her eyes hard and dark.

"What, while I'm dressed as a bloody fish?"

She laughs at me, "I like you, kid, it's a shame you have to die."

I shut up after that. So does she.

We're sent out of the holding bay and into the streets of the Capitol. Crowds roar and cheer, though I swear that I can hear some laughter among the overwhelming noise. We wave. Blow kisses. The citizens of the Capitol try to catch them, even though it's impossible. I smile, even though I know that I don't want to.

We reach the end of the parade, and, once the rest of the Districts are here, President Snow walks out. He gives his speech, the same as every year, outlining just why we are being sent to our deaths, and it is met with thunderous applause.

I feel sick.

Once the event is over, we go back to Floor Four. People are telling me and Hannah that we did wonderfully, and that we looked fabulous, though I want nothing more than to get out of this ridiculous fish suit.

Training starts soon. Then I'll be able to make a proper impression. I hear they sometimes have tridents in the arena.

Killing Tributes can't be much harder than killing fish.

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><p>AN - Leave a review if you wish :D

- Heinz x


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